


I'll keep you with me (but never under lock and key)

by orphan_account



Series: Nature Boy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, I so didn't mean for that to happen, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-20
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can neither confirm, nor deny, the possibility of spending three days harassing Chris Argent, before he finally caved and shared what little information he has about what is apparently a rival group of hunters."</p><p>Or the aftermath of <i>There was a boy</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll keep you with me (but never under lock and key)

**Author's Note:**

> There's an artsy sex scene. It's not smut, because I wouldn't be able to write that even if I wanted to, but there is sex. What the heck?
> 
> ... Forgive me.
> 
> Also, this fic has way more to do with the actual theme of the song this series was named after, though the tone is drastically different from the first. I think the first one was primarily meant to showcase just how strong and determined Stiles can be, and this one is more about the way Stiles loves, based on observations of his interactions with Lydia, Scott, his dad, and actually, Derek himself, in canon.

The lights came on, forcing all of the werewolves, and the one human left standing, to blink dumbly in the time it took for their eyes to adjust. Grimly, Stiles took in his handiwork, studying the prone forms of the two hunters he had taken out. One was bleeding copious amounts from a nasty wound on the back of his head. The other had a similarly disturbing, yet strangely satisfying volume gushing from his horribly crooked nose, along with lurid bruising that was already starting to form on his neck, and the tiny red dots that signified oxygen deprivation. He turned away from them, resolutely ignored the memories of the seven others he’d had to incapacitate before gaining access to their captives, and then set about getting his friends out of their cages, using the same code on the locks as he had on all the doors.

Not only were these hunters cocky as hell, they were sick and twisted, too. Using the date of the Hale fire as their code was nothing short of sadistic.

“Everybody mostly alright? I couldn’t risk the hunters hearing the Jeep, so I had to walk here. We can take one of their cars, though.” He made himself turn back to the hunters once the last cage clicked open, confident that Boyd would be strong enough - and stubborn enough, because the quiet beta may be the level-headed one in their group, but he also had pride enough to put both Scott and Derek to shame - to get out under his own power, especially now that the scent of wolfsbane was really starting to dissipate. Bending down, he shoved down the childish part of him that desperately wanted to make some sort of comment about having his hand in the pants pockets of both of the hunters. He’d simply have to take Broken Nose’s keys as compensation for services rendered.

Standing, he felt an arm wrapping around his shoulders, and if his answering smile was rather more wan than normal, he knew Derek would understand. “How did you find us?”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny, the possibility of spending three days harassing Chris Argent, before he finally caved and shared what little information he has about what is apparently a rival group of hunters. His main issue with them is that they don’t even pretend to follow the Code. They really do enjoy killing werewolves. Anyway,” he said, shaking his head briefly in that dismissive way he had whenever he wanted to change the subject, “things should be fine for the time it takes us to get out of here, but I wouldn’t say no if you guys wanted to keep your ears pricked for any signs of movement, just in case.”

The four betas separated into pairs, staying close to their significant others and reaffirming the fact that they were still alive and whole and together. Stiles led them out the same way he came in, taking them through long corridors and occasionally having to skirt around the other hunters, all in various uncomfortable positions on the ground.

He hoped they would all wake up with headaches of epic proportions. Every last one of them had earned that much and more.

They made it out of the old animal shelter, all of them stopping for a moment at the sight of the wide-open parking lot, the vast expanse of stars shining down on them from the night sky, and a cool breeze soothing their overheated skin.

“For the record, this was not how I imagined Fall Break of our senior year going,”Stiles informed the rest of the pack, his voice galvanizing them into moving once more. “We’re going to have to do something really amazing over Thanksgiving in order to make up for it.”

“Aww. We missed you, too, Stiles,” Erica cooed, mostly sarcastic, since that was the way the two of them preferred to interact with each other. Okay, so most of the pack was sarcastic. Stiles should probably feel worse about his personality rubbing off on them, but it was actually pretty awesome, and he might be a little too proud over the whole thing.

“Well, obviously. Who wouldn’t pine and waste away without being able to bask in the presence of all this?” He gestured slightly carelessly with his modified lacrosse stick, narrowly missing Boyd’s shoulder.

Long since accustomed to his lack of coordination unless it had something to do with protecting himself and the pack, Boyd merely sent Stiles a dry look and then let it go. He knew there was a reason he liked Boyd.

They reached the three sedans, and Stiles raised the key-chain he had ‘borrowed’ from Broken Nose, pressing the button to unlock one of them. He shook his head at the lack of originality. All of them were black, with tinted windows. It was like the hunters were _asking_ for people to find them suspicious. Then again, this was Beacon Hills. A kanima had roamed the town for a few months, they had fought a guerrilla war with a pack of alphas - and won! - for the first nine weeks of their junior year, there had been an incident with faeries the following Christmas, along with that awkward incident with the ogres over the summer, and people still didn’t realize there was something supernatural going on. Comparatively speaking, three suped-up sedans were barely even worth sniffing at.

Stiles drove to the other side of town in silence, the werewolves still recovering and trying to realize that they were actually safe again, and would be until the next threat came along, so long as the leader of the disgraced hunters took his little message to heart. They pulled up to the finished Hale house, piling out as slowly as they had piled in.

He dug his own set of keys out of his jean pocket and unlocked the front door, knowing everyone would follow him in. Five keen noses perked up at the scents of chicken noodle soup and freshly baked bread, and then everyone turned to stare wide-eyed at Stiles.

“What?” He shrugged. “I knew we would get back in time for everything to finish, and I figured you guys would need something that would be gentle on your stomachs.” Jaw clenching, he concluded, “After all, it’s not like they were feeding you three square meals while they had you there.”

“Stiles,” Scott rasped for the first time since they had been rescued, “you’re the best, man.” He glanced at Isaac, who had let out an amused huff. “Oh, but you’re my favorite, Isaac. Actually, you’re both my favorite.”

“Scott, I love you, man, but seriously? Quit while you’re not _too_ deep in the rut you’re making for yourself.”

Things were mostly relaxed as they all ate as much as they could manage, which was far more than humans would have been able to consume after receiving similar treatment. Every day, Stiles found new reasons to be grateful that all of his friends were made of sterner stuff than the average sentient being.

After cleaning up, they all exchanged hugs - or fist bumps, in some cases, since Scott and Boyd might never reach the hugging stage with each other, which was totally fine, and business as usual - and then headed off to their respective wings. It was odd, initially, having so much space once the house was done. Each couple had claimed a section of the house, and it served to mitigate some of the discomfort that naturally resulted from young, healthy werewolves sharing a home away from home with equally auditorily sensitive individuals.

Just as Stiles was grateful for his friends being werewolves, he would never stop being grateful that he was still human. There were some things he just never needed to know.

He took Derek by the hand and led him down the hall, toward the master bedroom, and into the master bath. Pulling away, he went to start the shower, giving the water a chance to heat up. He walked back and began painstakingly peeling away the clothes which had practically become glued to Derek in the three days he and the rest of the pack had been gone. Only after Derek was completely bare did Stiles shuck his own clothes, not worrying about taking the same care with his own body.

Sticking his hand under the steady stream of water, he deemed it suitable, and pulled Derek in after him, guiding him under the spray and shutting the door. He took his time washing the dirt and grime - and, yes, the blood - away from his mate’s skin, kissing each place where a wound had obviously been as soon as it was washed clean. Tilting Derek’s head back, he made sure his hair was thoroughly wet before lathering in the organic shampoo that, according to Derek, offended his heightened senses the least, massaging it into his scalp and feeling floored for the hundredth time that he felt safe enough with Stiles to close his eyes, to let him lean his head back into the water, exposing the strong lines of his neck.

When all the shampoo finished washing down the drain, Stiles gave himself a cursory cleansing and then shut off the shower head. Opening the shower door, he glanced at Derek, silently asking him to wait on the ocean blue rug he and Erica had picked out six months ago, along with all the other furnishings for the house. Everyone else had been content to let them handle things on their own. Grabbing the towels he had left hanging on the rack before he left, unable to allow himself to picture a scenario where they would not be needed, he dried himself off and then went back to Derek, doing the same for his mate.

That done, Stiles asked, “Come to bed with me?” He always left this part up to Derek, never wanting him to feel pressured. Derek hadn’t understood at first why Stiles had decided to set up a room for himself in addition to the one they shared. Then, Stiles had asked him to talk about how things had been when he was with Kate, and things had made more sense. Stiles never wanted a place to avoid Derek. He simply wanted Derek to feel like he had control of their relationship, like he could retreat and have time to himself if he needed it.

Stiles had never found himself with a reason to use that extra bedroom. Derek still appreciated the knowledge that it was there.

In lieu of speaking, Derek threaded their fingers together and stepped out into their bedroom.

Their first time together hadn’t been anything like the playful, wild romp in the sheets Derek had been expecting, in the rare times he had allowed himself to expect anything at all. Instead, Stiles had taken his time loving him from head to toe, taking him apart and putting him back together with his lips and tongue and fingers. In the times since, there were plenty of opportunities for them to explore that more light-hearted side, but it was still almost always about what Derek needed, what would make him feel loved.

He had asked Stiles about it a few weeks into their relationship, had needed to to know if Stiles was just shy about taking what he wanted. Still breathing heavily, Stiles had propped himself up on one arm from where he had rolled moments before and smiled down at him incredulously. “Me? Shy? No, Derek, that’s not what it is. You’re already giving me everything that I want just by letting me be here, with you. Letting me touch you.”

Derek hadn’t been able to face how tender Stiles was towards him just then. No one outside of his own family had ever spoken to him so gently, or with such sincerity. He had let his gaze fall in the safe area of his lover’s collarbone. Admittedly, it was a lovely example of skeletal structure. He might have just continued staring at it forever, if Stiles had not intervened.

He had used his free hand to carefully wrap his long fingers around Derek’s jawline and used the barest hint of pressure to guide his face back up, saying, “Hey, hey look at me. I will never ask you for more than you feel like you can give, okay? All I really want is for you to be happy and let me take care of you. Everything else is just a bonus.”

There was a chance that Stiles would stop shocking him someday. It hadn’t been that day, yet. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that this isn’t what you want, or that I’ve been taking advantage of you. If we really do this, it’s for life, and I’ve got baggage, Stiles. And not just a little. I mean, a _lot_ of baggage.”

“And I know that. You want to know something, though? I’m not just some guy who will say whatever in order to get into your pants. I don’t even really like the thought of casual sex or just dating for the fun of it. I’m kind of intense, but then, that kind of works out, because you can be pretty intense, yourself. You know how I knew I was in love with you? It really wasn’t anything sweet or romantic - we’re going to have to make something up if we ever have kids, because you know they’re going to ask. Anyway, I was in the shower, taking care of things, and I didn’t see myself with Lydia. I saw myself with you. And it wasn’t just a one time thing. It’s been like that for months. I close my eyes, and I see you, every single time. I’ll be sitting in Statistics, trying to blink the boredom out of my eyes, and suddenly there you are. Or I’ll be talking to Scott, and he’ll start waxing poetic about Isaac’s hair, or his smile, and when I start tuning him out, I hear you, instead. So, don’t think for a second that I’ll grow out of you, or get tired of you, or whatever it is that you think is going to make me stop loving you, because I won’t. Call me corny if you want to, but you’re it for me, Derek Hale.”

Tonight, Stiles was every bit as tender as he had been so many months ago, but for the first time, it felt like he was doing this for himself, too. Oh, he took care of Derek first - Derek honestly didn’t think that would ever change - but there was a desperation to everything Stiles did, every kiss and every nip, every roll of his hips, every stroke of his piano hands playing along Derek’s skin. If they both trembled after, if they clung to each other a little too tightly, then that was only to be expected, and if Derek’s heart broke a little when Stiles whispered, “You can’t leave me, Derek. You just can’t,” it would be all right, because Stiles would put it back together again, too.

“I’m not going anywhere, Stiles.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you said so. Right before you knocked out a seasoned hunter. Your ninth for the day, I think.”

Stiles huffed a startled laugh, shaking his head at his own audacity. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

“Well,” Stiles started, licking his lips and looking like he didn’t quite know what to think of himself, “good, then. As long as that’s clear.”

Raising a wry eyebrow at his mate, Derek told him, “I’m pretty sure they got the message. I doubt you could have been any clearer.” When Stiles got a calculating light in his eyes, Derek shook his head, killing off whatever reckless idea had just started forming before it could actually come to completion. “No. Whatever you’re thinking right now, the answer is no. You’ve done your part to protect this pack. Now, all we can do is watch and wait, and make sure that none of this gets back to your father’s department.”

Stiles winced. “My dad. Uh, yeah. That’s... a good point right there. That should definitely keep me busy for a while. In fact -”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever it is, it’ll keep,” Derek said firmly. “For now, just go to sleep. I have a feeling you haven’t slept well at all for the last three days, and I know I haven’t.”

Looking guilty, Stiles nodded a little, not wanting to jostle them. “Right, yeah, you must be exhausted. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m the one who brought it up in the first place.”

“Still,” Stiles murmured, pressing their foreheads together, “I should have a better handle on things.”

Too bone-weary to address the many reasons Derek didn’t want Stiles to exercise more control on his meandering mental pathways, he simply told him, “Sleep, Stiles. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighed, his eyes closing of their own accord. “We will. Because you’ll be here.”

“I’ll be here.”


End file.
